


We leave only a mark

by IaMcHrIsSi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aromantic Asexual Natasha Romanov, Asexual Natasha Romanov, Everybody is Queer, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Well almost everybody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 03:59:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IaMcHrIsSi/pseuds/IaMcHrIsSi
Summary: She used to wonder, if being ace was something that was done to her. If it's just another part of her that the Red Room broke. If, had she never been a Black Widow, she wouldn't be ace.At some point, though, she decided it doesn't matter. It's part of who she is. Like that wry sense of humor that still surprises her sometimes, or the way she builds herself layer over layer, or the fact that it turns out she wants to believe in doing the right thing.Natasha changes her hair, her name, sometimes even her eyes. She changes her accent and her nationality and her loyalty, but she can't change that. Being ace is part of her. She decides she's proud of it.





	We leave only a mark

**Author's Note:**

> So, ace Natasha. Not my idea, but I kind of wanted to write this anyway. There isn't much of a story here, and the scenes aren't in a chronological order either, but... yeah. Also, Tony is the only character that actually shows up in this story who's straight. Everybody is queer in some way. (Clint is demi (both demi romantic and demi sexual), Hill is a lesbian, and Fury I have about three conflicting headcanons, so I didn't specify it here, everyone else's orientation is clear in the fic).
> 
> Title is from We don't need another Hero by Tina Turner

“Oh, how … fascinating.” Natasha breathes, letting herself blush a little bit. She looks at his naked, muscled breast, and pretends to be out of breath. The mark laughs, running his hand through his hair, as though this is some romcom. They are even at a pool party, her dressed in an expensive, artsy bathing suit that covers all suspicious scars, him still wet from the round of swimming he did to show of his body.

“Yeah, my uncle is pretty cool. He's got contacts to everyone, even...” The man, John Mikros, looks around, beckons her closer. Natasha lets herself smile, bats her eyes in the way she knows people find attractive, and moves closer. She lets her naked arm slide against his, letting him think it's an accident. He eats it right up.

“He's friends with a member of the World Security Council. You know, the guys who basically rule the world? Yeah, he's friends with one of them.” He looks at her, desire to impress and desire for sex written all over his face, and Natasha plays along, let's herself gasp as though she is excited about this. “I saw him once, after a meeting. Looked like a regular guy, white hair and all, but, you know... _rules the world_.”

He's also a member of Hydra, and probably recruited the CEO of Mikros Engineering into it, as well. Which explains at least some of the tech Hydra has, and why Michael Mikros doesn't seem afraid of AIM.

Natasha quickly leaves the party after that. She gives Mikros a fake phone number, bats her eye lashes a bit more, and resists the urge to roll her eyes as she feels his eyes on her ass. She doesn't really like jobs like this, job that rely on her sex appeal, but she doesn't hate them, either. She's good at them, good at making them see a woman for the night, and as long as they only see that, they don't see a spy. And it's easy, so, win win.

* * *

 

“You know, there's a queer cafe in town. I go there every now and then, I could take you too, if you wanted.” Laura says one day, walking a fussing Lila around while Natasha is trying to feed Coop some mashed potatoes.

“I... I don't know.” Natasha says. It's... not something she's ever thought about, really. Not about Laura being bi, the giant bi pride flag that decorated the wall being something of a tip off about that, but about... being out to strangers.

Natasha's body is a weapon, and her sex appeal is part of that. An important part. Once people know that she's not into sex... well, most of them either stop seeing her as human, or they want to _fix_ her. As though being ace means she is broken.

“You don't have to, of course. But everyone knows you as Clint's sister anyway, so that wouldn't be a problem. And the people there are really nice. Clint's been there a few times, too. You could go with him, if you wanted.” Laura tells her, walking in a small circle now. Lila seems to calm down a bit.

“I... maybe. I think I'll... need time for that. But maybe.” Natasha says, trying to concentrate on Coop, and on getting the food into his mouth. It's more difficult than it seems, given that Coop doesn't really seem interested in eating.

“But thank you for offering.”

* * *

 

She used to wonder, if being ace was something that was done to her. If it's just another part of her that the Red Room broke. If, had she never been a Black Widow, she wouldn't be ace.

At some point, though, she decided it doesn't matter. It's part of who she is. Like that wry sense of humor that still surprises her sometimes, or the way she builds herself layer over layer, or the fact that it turns out she wants to believe in doing the right thing.

Natasha changes her hair, her name, sometimes even her eyes. She changes her accent and her nationality and her loyalty, but she can't change that. Being ace is part of her. She decides she's proud of it.

* * *

 

Stark gives them all rooms in his tower. Well, technically speaking, it's the Avengers Tower now, but Natasha doesn't think it well never not be Stark's. She's pretty sure everyone else knows it, too. Maybe Stark will realize that someday, maybe he won't.

“Look, I've got you everything you could ever need.” He says, pointing at her rooms. They are full of tasteful, expensive furniture, which means that it was definitively Pepper who got everything, not him. Natasha raises her eyebrow at him, and he sighs.

“Bed, wardrobe, bathroom, kitchen, books, weapons storage... hell, I even got you a fully stocked naughty cupboard. Condoms, Lube, whatever you need... I promise I won't ask about anyone you bring up here!” He points at a black cupboard. Natasha rolls her eyes.

“I won't use any of the stuff.” She says, stifling a sigh. The bed looks comfy, she will admit that. Not as nice as the bed she has at the farm, but she is willing to admit that that's probably down to the fact that the farm is _home_ , and this will never be. She's biased. But this... this is Stark trying. So... it's not terrible.

“You're the hottest woman I know, of course you'll have the opportunity to use it. But, like I said, I won't ask. It's a rule. Pepper insisted. Any partners that are brought to the rooms are not talked about unless you bring it up.” Stark tells her, looking somewhat sincere.

“That's not...” Natasha starts, but then shakes her head. She's not in the mood to explain asexuality today, and really, she doesn't know Stark enough for that yet.

He doesn't seem to have heard her anyway.

* * *

 

The trainers taught them about sex. Mostly about how to use it to get what they want. How to seduce, and how to pretend to be seduced. How to fake attraction and desire, even when the target was disgusting. How to pretend to consider a ninety year old hot.

They didn't teach them about their own sexuality. It wasn't important. They weren't people to them, after all. Just weapons. Weapons don't have desires, Weapons simply function, or they don't function. Then they get fixed.

When she was a little girl, Natasha thought that desire was a male thing. That's what the teachers talked about, that men would want pretty girls, and that it was their duty to make them want _them_. That good little dancers could make anyone want them.

She was twelve when she was told about seducing women, and thirteen when she realized that Warwara wasn't just friends with Galina.

She wasn't sure what she thought about that. Maybe she was jealous, because they were so close. Because they trusted each other in a way nobody here did. Because they _could_ trust each other like that.

Maybe she thought she was superior to them, not distracted by love like this. Not having to deal with feelings. Or loyalties to anyone but their trainers.

She thinks it was both. She's not proud of the latter, but at thirteen, being the best, the most focused, was still important to her. These days, she's just sad. She knows how they died, can still see Warwara curled around Galina, Galina's blood all over Warwara's hair, a knife sticking out of Warwara's back.

They were children. All of them. The trainers wanted to turn them into weapons, but they were children, too.

* * *

 

“Want to go on a date?” Maria asks, straight forward and precise as always. Natasha appreciates that. She can read innuendo, and implications, but she likes it when she doesn't have to. She likes it when things are clear.

“No. I'm aro ace.” She says. Direct and clear. No ambiguities or possibilities for misunderstandings. She knows that Maria likes it that way, too. Something about being the deputy director of a huge secret organization. Or possibly just something about Maria. Her friend nods.

“Okay. Want to be my wing woman?” Maria asks, and Natasha smiles.

“Sure.”

* * *

 

Clint and her teach themselves how to knit during a long, cold mission in Belarus. They are mostly waiting for their marks to make their move, and are stuck between hiding in their safe house and staking out the human traffickers.

They've been working together for three years by now, and Natasha's been to the farms a few times, enough that she feels almost as though she's part of Clint's family. Almost. She's an assassin after all, a Black Widow. THE Black Widow. She doesn't have a family.

They make scarves. It's the easiest pattern in the book they've brought, and they figure they can use them immediately.

“The blue will look cute on you.” Clint says, looking at the tangled mess in her lap. She picked out the color so carefully, but apparently, knitting takes more practice than she'd thought, because what she has so far just doesn't really look good.

“I actually thought about giving this one to Cooper, but the way it looks... probably the next one, instead.” She says, almost shyly. She's held Coop, has babysitted him, she knows that Clint trusts her with him, that he approves of her caring about his son, but it still feels... weird, to talk about Clint's family like this.

His eyes light up, and it makes Natasha feel warm inside. Wanted. Not sexually, not like all those men who ogle her whenever they have a chance, but as though Clint really wants her to be part of his family.

“He'd like that. Even if the scarf is a bit tangled.” Clint says, smiling genuinely, and Natasha knows that he means that he likes it, too. And that he is touched by the gesture. She smiles.

“And yours? Purple is definitively your color.” She teases. It's true. Clint has always had a thing about purple, though the shade he's using isn't really... him, somehow. Which is strange, because he wears all sorts of different shades of purple. It just doesn't feel right for him, she thinks.

“It's not for me.” He says, but refuses to elaborate.

When they leave, he hands her the scarf, and she realizes it's not only purple, but white, gray and black too, arranged like the ace pride flag. They've never talked about it, she'd never brought it up and he'd never asked. They don't talk about it now, either. But she grins, and he smiles, and that's enough.

* * *

 

“Are you lonely?” Nick asks. Natasha looks up from her book. The question is kind of out of the blue, really, especially given that Nick knows where and more importantly with whom she is going to spend Christmas.

“No. Why would I be?” She asks in return, fixing him with a searching look. Nick doesn't do personal questions, not really. Not usually. Not when he is most likely going to show up for Christmas, too.

“Do you...” He stops, shaking his head. It's awkward, and he knows it. “Do you want to date someone?” And, okay, this is not something Natasha ever thought she'd talk to Nick of all people about. She knows he cares, but dating? Really?

“Nope. I'm good. And ace.” She tells him, and he nods. He won't ask what that means. Whether he knows, or is just going to look it up later, she's not sure, but it's not like he'd say either way.

“Are you lonely?” Natasha asks. She doesn't think so, but if he's asking her... he doesn't have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, either, as far as she knows. And Natasha knows a lot.

“To busy to be lonely. And I've got people.” He smiles, that rare smile that he reserves for her and Clint and Laura and the kids. She smiles, too.

* * *

 

It's Sam who drags them to the bar. He says something about doing normal people things, and about letting go, and Natasha thinks that it might be what counts as a bonding exercise for him.

She's not good with bonding stuff. She usually just... makes sure she can trust a person, and then... sort of acts as their friend until they catch up. Which usually takes ages. She thinks she's copying that from Clint. He'd essentially acted as though he was her brother more or less from the moment he had decided not to kill her.

Steve has caught up, finally. It took fighting Nazis to get there, but he's realized that their friends. And Sam is a friend too, sort of. She's looked him up, has memorized his file and picked up a lot through his reactions to things, but she doesn't really know him yet. So... bar.

It's an old bar, not ugly but with character. Two exits, Natasha notes, plus the way through the kitchen. A few people, but not too many. She can keep an eye on them, and the bartender. It's nice. And judging by the way Sam looks at her, he knows that that's what she would appreciate about this place. She allows herself to smile.

“Nice place.” She says, and Sam grins. Steve nods. His hair is a muddy brown, just like hers. She had insisted. No point in getting recognized as two Avengers and Falcon. Not when the fall of SHIELD is still so fresh in people's mind.

They order their drinks, talking about all sort of things, none that are important. The alcohol doesn't really affect Natasha, whether that's due to her being Russian or due to her being a Black Widow, she's doesn't know, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't affect Steve, either, and Sam is drinking a beer. It's... nice. Not like going out with Clint or Laura, or Maria or Coulson, but... nice.

“See those guys over there?” Sam asks after a while. “They're cute. And they've been staring at us for a while.” Steve looks over immediately, and Natasha sighs fondly. Subtly is not his strong suit.

“They look... nice?” He says. The question mark is obvious in his voice. Natasha chuckles. The group Sam is referring to is composed of three men and two women in their late twenties, all of them conventionally good looking.

“None of them catch your eye? Both of you could do with a distraction, you know.” Sam says, and Natasha knows he's teasing them, but she somehow answering honestly feels right, anyway.

“Nah.” She says, taking a sip of her drink, preparing herself for questions and judgemental idiots. “Not interested in sex.”

Steve stares at her. She wonders if she should explain things to him. She's not Stark, she knows that queer people didn't pop up in the last twenty years, but asexuality isn't commonly known even today, so...

“I'm asexual. It's a sexual orientation, like straight, gay or bisexual. It means I'm not sexually attracted to anyone. There are asexuals who like to have sex anyway, but I'm not one of them. Honestly speaking, I'm the cliché asexual. I prefer cake.” She explains, feeling slightly self conscious. Which is stupid. Steve doesn't do judgy about stuff like this, she knows that.

“I know what asexuality is, I looked it up when I woke up. I just... didn't realize I knew another asexual.” Steve says, and wow, Natasha had not expected this to be where this conversation was going.

“Wait, you're both ace?” Sam asks, looking genuinely interested, and maybe Laura is right and Natasha actually does have pretty good instincts when it comes to friends.

“Well, I'm demi. And biromantic. Or panromantic. Haven't really figured that part out, yet. But... definitively on the ace spectrum. I... I never knew anyone else that was on the ace spectrum, too.” He seems relieved to say it openly, and suddenly Natasha can't help but think of how all those conservatives thought that Steve was the perfect icon for the rich, white and straight. Oops.

“So... what you're telling me is that nobody here is straight. Nice.” Sam says, grinning at them. Natasha smiles. She's pretty sure he's been trying to flirt with both her and Steve since he met them, so...

“Bisexual?” She asks.

“And proud.” He says with a grin. Steve's grinning, too. Natasha smirks.

 


End file.
